


I Can Feel Your Heartbeat.

by fearless_seas



Series: Young and Beautiful. [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander and Thomas personalities are based off historical, Alexander didn't know he was hurting Thomas, Alexander is lonely, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Emotional, Family Issues, M/M, Past Smut, They honestly love each other so much, Thomas doesn't want to admit that he hurt him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 07:15:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fearless_seas/pseuds/fearless_seas
Summary: Alexander Hamilton will never be able to take back the terrible things he's said to Thomas Jefferson. But he can try.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mean't to update my fanfic Vanilla Skies. Unfortunately, my depression has hit it's peak and I feel ultimately, entirely and hopelessly numb. I tried to feel something. This is what I came up this. Their adventure does not end here- there is still more to come.

_ Will you still love me _

_ When I'm no longer young and beautiful? _

_ Will you still love me _

_ When I got nothing but my aching soul? _

_ I know you will, I know you will _

_ I know that you will _

_ Will you still love me when I'm no longer beautiful? _

_    Is he capable? Will be succeed? Is he going to love me?  _ The tear stains once etched into Thomas’s smooth skin were clear, disappearance and invisible. The lines of hurt in his soul, the screams of animosity kept in quietude left their marks. Like he hadn’t seen before, they were now rising up on his skin. He could see them. Clear as day, simplistic scrawls of unsaid words, intrinsic scars pierced into his darkened coat. They burned when Alexander touched them. With nimble shifty fingers, tracing the deep lettering dipping into his hip bone.

         Nail marks were red and scorching on his partner's stomach.  _ Had I done that?  _ John had always told him he was known to thrash around in his sleep. A silent gasp admitted from his lips, the hairs strung like thick vines in front of his eyes covered his vision. Through the sprawl, he could still notice. They were pink rooting lines scratching into Thomas’s surface abdomen. A worried pit seeped into the pool of his gut.

        Sunlight sliced through the blinds at the right of the bed, directly in front of him as he lay diagonal, propped up on an elbow, watching Thomas’s chest peacefully drift up and down as he lay down on the bed face up. The arm around his bare waist drifted daringly close to the crook of his ass. A soft smile punctuated his mouth, turning the corners into a slight smirk. Thomas’s eyes were still closed, and the dawn that had approached itself outside of the large bay window with cutted glass left rays of the light parallel across Thomas’s body. His cimmerian skin turned to a marvelous gold. The dips of his hair in the halo were dyed stunning. To Alexander, Thomas looked like a god.

         Tracing the edges of his fringed hair with his gaze, he couldn’t illustrate it any other way. He wouldn't imagine the creases of Thomas’s eyes etched with tiny wrinkles, ages and senility of wisdom biting into his flesh like cancer. It wasn’t contagious- you don’t just  _ catch  _ that much wisdom. In a way, the scars ringed into Alexander’s knuckles were his mark of wisdom. Special and unique to his person. If Alexander looked back into his past he could see the carefully plotted list of people who have left.

         No- they didn’t leave. Alexander was torn from him. His Mother's dull, sealed eyes lulling back into her head like a death memorandum hovering over his own neck- a guillotine. James’s russet optics, dejected and hooked, contemplating himself from the back of a blue car as it sped around the corner to misery. The red mail Alexander had torn up in an anger flurry when his father had left. All seeped away, could he catch them again? Who knows where his brother is now, his father dead in an alley somewhere and his mother…

        His mother was dead.

        Alexander had no family.

         Thomas could be his family. 

        A gulp bobbed in the column of his throat like a cork in a wine bottle. He couldn’t ever find his mother because she was gone. Coursing through his veins, thick, envious. A kiss permeated on his lips, he fastened his eyes, gently, stagnantly before pressing the lingering interaction directly above of Thomas’s center, bridging down into what he’d seen just last night.  _ Would this last forever? Would Thomas grow sick of him? _

        The thought blossomed into a branch of infinite roses of possibility. The hand laid across his stomach like an impression simplified his entire existence. The fingers squeezed harder,  _ I’ll never let you go, Thomas  _ . At the brush of his knuckles, evacuating his side and traveling towards Thomas’s face, the pads of his fingers swiping against the gruff of his neat beard, it skidding down pinching at the dermis of Thomas’s firm collar bone. Half of him expected Thomas to disappear in a blush of sand and he’d wake up in his lonely dorm room with Aaron’s unoccupied bed postured in the corner, with his night terrors and misconceptions blown up. The shades at the opposite end of the room would be fastened in an eternity, almost as if a symbol for the obscurity of his mind.

        Thomas saw the light. Thomas was a broken man who had chosen to see the blaze in almost everybody, preferential to examine the sun in their hearts, the fire in their bellies and authenticity in their consolidations. The struggle and the fear stricken trust issues smashing down against his clavicle. He ruminated no less reticent, no less passionately. To be able to not to surge up with empowering energy every five seconds with his new set of ideas was indeed an artifact that Alexander admired in Thomas Jefferson.

_  What was the light Thomas saw in Alexander? _

         The kiss he’d pressed only moments ago, teeth nipping at the flesh of a man who was only three years his senior, as if he was marking his territory was starting to burn like sick smoldering liquid on his sheath, his insolence. Those are his traces, those are him. Himself on another. Outside the window of the apartment, the city already submerged itself and was flourishing into personage. The sun crossing and dipping out of the skyscrapers integument of the window in a mesmerizing mirage. New York City was coming to life with bloom of spoken day. 

        What happened to be scaring Alexander the most was the idea that this was only temporary. Nervous matter stinging into his perception, the head on top of Thomas’s chest, and the arm wrapped around his waist like a promising protection brought him to a effortless peace.  _ Will Thomas love him forever? _

        Toleration. Will Thomas be able to tolerate his loud mouth or his blatant out of control, rapid fire dialect? Thomas is permanently going to be beautiful. His character, his grace, his glamour, his excellence, his shy lipped smile- able to soak any room at a solitary glimpse. Alexander Hamilton was effortlessly… Hamilton. His chin quivered, his sentiment never managing to be able to sanction the chiseled jaw of his counter, lying just underneath him an aura of beautiful simplification. An extremity slithered from Thomas’s collarbone to his chest, temporal across his heart, all fingers stretched out to grip something… Underneath the bone, beneath the muscle and skin there lies something truly beautiful in this man. Something truly human- a man.

        In the palm of his metacarpal, the center of his exasperation, it thumped. It kept on beeping. A beating rhythm like a drum in the midway of his hand, at the medium of his world. A respire admitted on his breath, the suffocation held still in his throat, billowed with the air. Thomas Jefferson. Lafayette always told him to picket out for who he judged externally, to watch out because their stories were a closed book, the covering only giving a vidicative tale from the outer complexion. Below the surface, another lies, in wait, in private in their own little centrality. To Alexander it had always been a mystery to why his sweet, darling Lafayette and  _ Jefferson _ were friends.

_          “John and I are going to the movies tonight, wanna come?” _

_         “Non, I’m going over to Thomas’s place tonight.” _

_         A snort. “Why? To sit around, drinking expensive wine and talking about how awesome you are- how conceited can you get.” _

_         “Expensive wine, oui. Talking about how “awesome we are”, non. Sorry to- how to say… Pop your bubble?” _

_        “It’s burst your bubble, Gilbert.” _

_         “Merci boucoup.” _

        A sip of anxiety drew a pant into his lungs. He modeled Thomas as an iron sheath, unbreakable, indestructible. He strived so indurant, to break him, to smash his exterior- to make him, a  _ person _ . His ribs began to compress inside of his chest, hidden within his cavity. The things he said, utterance he cannot ever take back. They built in his brain, he swallowed the tears accumulating in the creases of his discernment. A dispose of his pride, a wash of his glory, a swallow of his morality. Squinting his eyes though the fading darkness a mystic memorization. A kiss, a profession- tattooed across the bite of his teeth like a prayer. He curved in, replacing his palm with a kiss- a dull, slow, quiescence pulse vibrated through his cheek when he rested for a second.

       “I’m so sorry, Thomas.”

       Whisper in the air, murmur to the sync. He couldn’t take back what he said. He would never be able to take back all of the awful things he's spoken. Between a hiss and a  vicious elbow bump in the break room; a leap, across the table, a fist colliding with his jaw, and bruises on his knuckles stung with the sobriquet Thomas Jefferson- reminder of his own destruction. Now as he scrutinized back on his own past, his own melodic reflection. In his head he couldn’t even managed to tally. With this absorption, truth stab him like a solid platform. Thomas never put Alexander down for who he was- his insults were targeted in such a way that it didn’t just Alexander towards his physical vindication.

_ “You realize the bill you’re attempting to pass, Mr. Hamilton, is going to cause more corporate industries to be able to uproot local farm towns? You’re smart, instead of only thinking of your own view- you should try asking others.” _

_   “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Mr. Jefferson, see the value of stabilizing the economy in farm towns where many houses are going into foreclosure. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much time getting your eyebrows waxed you could see. Who the fuck does that anyways?” _

        You never told me it’s because it makes you feel pretty.

_  “Adams is looking to impeach you from Washington’s staff because of your illegitimate birth certificate.” _

_ “If you had a brain at all, you’d explain to Adams the illegality of this act. Work on getting some better friends, Mr. Jefferson- actually, as far as I’ve noticed, nobody really likes you- now do they?” _

__ You never told me that you and John Adams had a falling out because you loved him.

_ “I can smell the drink on your lips, Jefferson. You wouldn’t want Washington to notice.” _

_         “It- It was my sister, Jane’s birthday yesterday.” _

_ “You got drunk on your own sisters birthday? Let me guess, did she need to drive you home? Did she apologize to all others who watched? You’re lucky you even have a sister, Jefferson and you’re treating her like this.” _

__ You never told me that your sister died nine years ago.

_  “Jefferson, you never showed up to work yesterday.” _

_         “I already emailed Washington-” _

_         “Care so little about your work, Mr. Jefferson? Is this country of such little importance to you?” _

_         “No!” _

       You never told me that you were visiting James Madison in the hospital all day before.

        “You look tired, up all night?”

_ "Yes, Mr. Hamilton." _

_          "Doing what, dare I ask?" _

_          “None of your business.” _

_  “I can tell you like to keep the names of your prostitutes a secret, if your sex drive is causing you to be incapable of your job, Secretary- I suggest I speak with Washington.” _

         You never told me your now deceased wife’s sister is in a custody battle with you over your daughter.

        “Stop.” A body beneath his arm began to jitter, “I know what your thinking about, Alexander- please, stop.”

        If Alexander pictured that resonate in his head- they sounded infuriated. But the soft spoken, mild tone Thomas approached him with, his first vocab since last night were ingrained into his senses like a flood of relief, a flood of emotions. His neck twitched, the hand around his bare back tightened and lured him closer, a negligible yelp escaped from him. He was met in the tension filled center by a pair of large doe cinnamon eyes. He was painfully aware at the heat in the room was a cooling period, the breeze in the atmosphere shifting around the two.

         “Don’t be sorry.” The once sleeping before, underneath him now shuffled to hug him closer, reassurance. Their iris maintained connectivity between them.

        Alexander started again, “I’m so-”. A finger came to settle across the line of his lips, he dared to look cross eyed.

         “Alexander.", a warning, a pastoral sensation tingling him.

          Thomas revolved over to his side, and Alexander resumed his position nestled comforting beneath his arm. Never a million years would he have imagined he’d one momentous morning be spooning with Thomas Jefferson. A bristle of his stubble rubbed against the back of his neck.

        “Did I hurt you?”

         “Alexander…”, He didn’t recall asking to be stopped, the arm around his waist was repositioned lower when Alexander turned his body to face Thomas. Thomas's voice was melodic, bright so deep, it would respite himself to the sandman. The glow from the morning sunrise magnifying from outer the window through the glass, flashing against the back of Thomas’s hair.

        “Did I hurt you?”. Thomas didn’t answer, the hand on his hip gave a reassuring squeeze as he shuffled him deeper. His cheek came to contact with Thomas’s chest, the warm vibrancy from his skin was pulsating through him like ten thousand pin pricks of electric heat waves. “I’ll spend everyday trying to make it up to you, Thomas.”

         It was silent, silence- well, to be truthfully honest- it was never truly silent in the city. This was a powerful silence. The cars honked out familiar harmonies in the street and the shouting of a brawl down across the corner brought a peculiar light to his visage in such a face of darkness and tempered themes. Alexander came to cessation, shuttering his mouth at a cadence and flashing brood that there was no place he’d rather be. He would not want to be back in the Caribbean, or in his familiar work space in Washington’s headquarters, he didn’t want to be with his mother, or his brother or his father. He wanted this, and only this. His living in the moment element shone through in a ringlet of diamonds mantled around someone’s neck in a fling of pearls.

         Beauty amplified. Under the curling day approaching nearer and closer. The weight of the love that still brought butterflies to his stomach at the mere speculation of Thomas began to revolt his actions. The top of his head, underneath Thomas’s chin, his lips pressed up against Thomas’s collar bone. He kissed the flesh before him. Thomas twitched, digging his nail beds into the arch of his back.

          Thomas giggled, “You tease.” It was a stranger sound, he wanted it to play every time that he smiled. 

         Forehead flattened against the bone, Thomas the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen laid out like a trophy in front of him. He hadn’t won a prize, he didn’t need anything. He had all he wanted, had all he needed. He was okay for once, and he demand anymore or any less. In the back of his mind, his earlier fears struck him for only a second- only a juncture. Thomas felt the slow burn in the circulation of his function as if they were one brain for the two of them.  

_  He’ll always love you, Alexander. _

_         He always loved you, Alexander. _

_         He will never stop loving you, Alexander. _

        Old bodies laying in bed, memories playing distant in their heads, two hearts and one soul. Soul mates. Eternal conquest of love. He found his love in Thomas. His eyes shut, blocking everything into just a dream.

       “Only to you, my dear. Only to you.” he replied, as Thomas threaded his fingers through the lace of his hair. 

      In the afternoon morning, Alexander Hamilton fell asleep. Naked, in Thomas Jefferson’s sheets. Draped artistically around them like a renaissance painting. Pastel pink aura flushing the immigrants cheeks. A halo, shared between the two, a mark. Soul mark. The sky flooded with purple in that moment, and the trees below in the streets- their leaves glowed like diamonds floating above the sidewalk. Both colors in both. The scars on both their hearts, tears without repairs. The death festation in his body, was numb. Stitches on both their scars. Stitches to mend their broken hearts.

         Through a sleep gaze, words mumbled out- only Thomas heard.

  
         “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- If you can tell, Alexander has night terrors and is prone to nightmares.  
> \- Historically, Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson both hated each other.  
> \- Historically, Thomas Jefferson and John Adams were bromance until they broke up for a bit before John Adams (surprisingly) broke the silence between the two.  
> \- Historically, Thomas Jefferson was very close with his older sister Jane Jefferson. Unfortunately, when Thomas was 22 and Jane was 25 she had a stroke an passed away. Thomas was devastated.  
> \- Historically, James Madison had very poor health. He only ever got to be 5'4 and never weighed more than 100 pounds. It's not documented, but I think that he might have been so small and with poor health because he was born premature.  
> \- In this fanfic, Alexander is 32. Alexander in the past was married to Elizabeth Schuyler but they divorced when he was 30. Alexander before their divorce had three children with Elizabeth (they all live with Eliza and Maria), Philip (Age 5), Angelica (Age 3) and Alexander jr. (Age 1).  
> \- Thomas Jefferson is 35 years of age. He was in the past married to Martha but she passed away during the birth of their child Jane when he was 31. They had two children together, Martha jr. and Jane. Jane unfortunately passed away at the age of 1 and now Thomas only has one daughter; Martha (Age 6).  
> \- I added the custody battle because one of Thomas Jefferson's daughters (Mary) lived for a little bit with Martha Jefferson's sister following her death.  
> \- If you have anymore historical questions regarding this, feel free to comment.  
> 


End file.
